


Among Raging Fires

by theswearingkind



Category: bare: A Pop Opera - Hartmere/Intrabartolo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-16
Updated: 2006-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theswearingkind/pseuds/theswearingkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is so much more than you ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Among Raging Fires

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Big Damn Table #4, insides.

There’s nothing in your life that has prepared you for this.  This heat, burning you alive and scorching off your insides, leaving blisters everywhere his hands touch—your back, your arms, your chest, your hips, across the curve of your ass.  You’re shivering even though you’re not cold and you’re praying— _praying_ —that it gets good for him, because already it’s so fucking good for you.  He’s perfect and amazing and beautiful and you can’t remember a time when you haven’t wanted him, wanted this, even though you still can’t quite understand it, and then he does _something_ , makes some sort of noise that goes straight through you, and you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move at all even though you need to so goddamn badly that you might cry, because if you do it’ll all be over, and you can’t let it be over, not now, not ever.  You have to stay like this for the rest of your life.  You have to be touching him forever, his skin and his arms and his legs around your waist like a shelter, and that mouth that almost wrecked you tonight, almost pushed you over the edge before you got here, to this, and it kills you to think about where he learned to use it like he did, but this, _this_ is yours, he is yours. 

You can feel the sweat pooling against your stomach, rolling down your temple, gathering at the nape of your neck and in the small of your back, and you have to move.  You’re shaking so badly, trying to hold yourself still, let him get used to you, and goddamn it, you can’t stay like this much longer without losing your mind, but if you moved and it hurt him you’d have to kill yourself, because you can’t hurt him, ever.  _Please,_ you whisper, _I have to—God, baby, I need—_ and he understands because he always understands, and he says _okay_ and you move your hips, just a little, a tiny thrust forward, and have to bite your tongue to keep from screaming because he’s hot and alive around you, sparks shooting down your spine, and he’s taking you in like this is what he was made for, like this is all he’s ever meant to do, holding you inside him, searing heat and that tight close grip of flesh and muscle sliding wet and slick against you.  He moans and for a second your heart stops and you say desperately _Peter, God, did I—are you okay?_ because if he’s hurt because of you, something you did, you’ll have to spend the rest of your life walking over hot coals.  He doesn’t answer for a second and you can feel the cold spreading over you, shame like knives cutting into you, but then he says _more_ and rocks into you, and it’s all okay, everything’s right and good and beautiful.  The relief that floods through you makes you a little lightheaded, though it might just be that you’re actually here, moving inside him slow and careful, but God, so good, that dark wet fire inside him like water in the desert.

You want to say something to him, anything, tell him he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had, that you’ve wanted this for so long you’ve forgotten ever wanting anything else, that in the history of the world there’s never been anything as close to God as this, you inside him, safe and resting.  You want to say _look at us, baby, look at us.  I never thought this could happen.  I never thought it could be this way.  I didn’t know_ but you can’t speak around the lump in your throat, and you don’t want to cry but you’re not sure you have a choice anymore.  You kiss him because you have to, you can’t not, not when he’s touching you everywhere inside and out, a long slow drag of lips and tongue and teeth that doesn’t get anywhere close to what you need from him.  You need to hear him come and see his face when you fall, need to know that no matter what else might happen, you’ll always have this to look back on as the moment of your life.  

Pressure is building up across your lower back like nothing you’ve ever known, you’re getting so close, and you’re not sure if he’s getting there with you.  And that’s just not an option, because this has to be as perfect for him as it is for you.  You shift your hips a little, watching his face for a change, any change, and you’re starting to get desperate because you’re only human and if he doesn’t get there soon it might not matter at all, but then his eyes go wide as saucers and he gasps _God_ and every part of you cries out in thanks.  _Faster_ he says and you don’t have the strength left in you to say no.  You speed up, lips catching at his pulse, feeling it race under your tongue, and Jesus God, you didn’t think it could get any better than it was, but _this_ is better, him moving with you, rolling up to meet you coming down, and he’s locked his legs so tight around your hips that it’s like the two of you are just one body.  In your head you hear the Father intoning _and the two shall be of one flesh,_ and you can’t imagine anything holier than this, can’t imagine being closer to heaven than you are at this second.

 _Jesus_ , he gasps, eyes a shade of blue you don’t even know the name for, _I can’t—I don’t think I can—oh please just touch me, God, I just need—_ and you can’t stand the thought of him doing without something that you can give him, reaching down between your bodies to touch him.  You’re angry with yourself, furious that he even had to ask when you should have known, shouldn’t have gotten so lost in yourself that you didn’t even think to—and then suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore, because he’s sobbing, driving upward, closer to you, taking you deeper inside him, and coming against your skin, saying _oh yes oh God I love you, God I love you so much,_ and he’s so fucking goddamn beautiful that that’s all it takes, you’re coming inside him, emptying yourself, spilling every bit of pleasure and beauty and good that’s in you into him, and you’re crying _yes my God my God, I never knew, I love you, never knew it could be like this, Peter, never thought, never knew._


End file.
